Bound To The Demon
by Farewells
Summary: In exchange for Starling's survival, the Green Arrow made a deal with the Demon's head. An unwilling agreement that involved Oliver Queen's training of Nyssa al Ghul, not as her mentor, but as a man. His only requirement to tame the Demon's heir, domesticating her into a woman worthy of marriage, by conquering her fiery resolve and subduing her very strength.
1. Chapter 1

**A/n:** Had this idea for a really long time. While I do have another Oliver/Nyssa story in progress, this is one that heads towards a more relationship focused route.

Will be rated T for now, but shall transcend into M in the later potions of the story .

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 **Chapter: 1**

"Do you understand the stated terms and conditions?"

Unlike usual business meetings, this particular one was not conducted in a conference room on the top level of Queen Consolidated. Instead of mahogany desks and expensive paintings, they stood beside a slab of stone that was fashioned into a desk, as hung torches spread their illumination from the side of the room. There were no papers to be signed, no written document needed for their planned agreement.

"Yes." She replied, her posture was straight, without any signs of visible weakness. "I have to live with you for an entire year. I cannot disobey, but shall comply with every single one of your commands, your demands." Her voice was firm, even amongst the lines and the indications of what he could unwillingly force her into, "and if I were to uphold my end of the agreement for the year, I shall return to Nanda Parbat, and claim my rightful throne."

"If I am insubordinate, if I were to violate the terms of our agreement, I shall be stripped of my title as heir to the demon." She paused for a moment, preparing herself before she lifted the ceremonial knife and pressed it to the underside of her thumb, "I, Nyssa al Ghul, accept your conditions."

A droplet of blood fell onto the slab of rock between them both, before she passed the knife over to him.

"And I, Oliver Queen, accept yours as well." He repeated her action, watching as their pooling blood formed in union. A single drop of red, perfectly round.

They remained quiet on their journey back to Starling City, she was seated across from him on his private jet, yet neither one of them spoke. He held a glass of wine in one arm, but it wasn't for a festive reason or to set the mood. He sought to distract himself, as she did the same, but with a different form of coping. Nyssa looked out of the window as she had for the last few hours, unmoving, still, almost like a predator in wait.

He knew she was deep in thought, yet her mind was inscrutable, her face held a vacant stare, almost like an immutable object, emotionless. He felt lost, not just in his position but of his own situation. Dozens of questions and scenarios flooded his mind, his paranoia in full swing. Yet at the end of the day, there was nothing he could do but to play along, to hope that Ra's would fulfill his end of the bargain. He had no cards on hand, they were just puppets, the two of them stringed from Ra's fingertips.

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 ** _A month ago..._**

"Do you understand what this does?" His tone was as impassive as his eyes, they were empty and apathetic, even as he held the lives of all those in Starling in his palm.

Oliver Queen understood exactly what the man held, even more so due to his own history with the Alpha-Omega virus. The thousands that General Shrieve killed as he unleashed it in upon Hong Kong all those years ago, it was an event he could not forget. The General had a single vial back then, Ra's held the detonator to a dozen. All strategically placed around Starling to ensure the most devastating outcome. It wasn't humanly possible to stop him, he couldn't be in twelve places at once, not even Barry Allen could.

All Ra's al Ghul had to do, was to press that one single button, and all that remained of Starling would be an infected graveyard of death. Hundreds of thousands dead, those that survived would be quickly put down by the government to prevent further contamination.

There was no known cure to the Alpha-Omega virus.

He couldn't let that happen, he gave it his all, his strength, his persistence, his will, but even with all of that, he was no match for a man like Ra's. So he pleaded, he begged for Ra's to spare his city, he would do anything, but there was nothing he could offer a man without mercy.

The clock tower sounded noisily, indicating the coming of midnight, the time of detonation. He closed his eyes, but all remained untouched, the noisy city backdrop continued, unaware of how close it came to death itself.

The detonator still sat in Ra's palm, but he no longer seemed intent on its activation. Instead, he walked towards his kneeling adversary, who was still wavering from their previous encounter.

"You said you were willing to give your life for Starling," Ra's spoke, "I applaud your sacrifice, but I only require something less." He paused for a moment, "while Starling remains a malignant tumor, a stain that deserves to be wiped from the face of Earth, there is something… something else a little bit more important to me."

"My daughter, my heir." His voice softened, "she thinks herself ready to take my throne."

"I know of her plots to rid of me, to take my place, to rule. I admire her strength and her ambition, but my child is far from ready." He stopped beside Oliver, "you must think me weak. But as a father, there is only so much I can do to my own child."

"You, on the other hand," he continued, "you will do anything for Starling. If you were willing to give your life for the continuation of your city, then I believe you will accept my offer."

Oliver looked towards Ra's, still unsure of the man's plan, "I am no longer a killer, I will not –"

He was interrupted by laughter, as Ra's returned with an amused smile. "No, Oliver Queen, I do not wish for you to kill my daughter, if you even could."

"I want you to quash the fire within her, I want you to tame her, to subdue her into obedience. I want you to conquer, to break her."

"You will have a single year, to turn an unrestrained child into a woman worthy of marriage. We will tell her of my wishes to have you take my place, that the only way for my decision to become unhinged, would be for her to undergo my test, to spend a year with you. You will take that chance, that deception to play out your mission, however if you fail, the next time I am in Starling, will be my last."

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 ** _3 weeks ago..._**

She held herself back, restraining her strength. The first three kicks she dodged, the next slammed right into the side of her ribs. It hurt like hell, but it affected her opponent equally as much. It was tiring him, his nostrils flared with each heated breath he took. She noticed his shifting weight, his body cocking to repeat his previous action, she responded almost immediately.

As his leg rose off the ground, she darted forward and closed the distance between them. His knee drove into her side, but it was without the necessary speed and much momentum. She caught it with her arm, her feet sweeping the man's uneven stance from underneath him. As he fell, she pushed downwards the leg that she caught, increasing the force of his fall and allowing gravity to do the rest.

The second assassin came from her side, in full view of her peripherals. He managed to land his grip onto her arm, latching onto her clothing. He pulled her close, trying to restrict her movements, but Nyssa was already prepared for that scenario. She ducked as he leaned forward, his other arm granted only air. Using her own momentum, her left leg swung upwards into the air, almost like a graceful ballerina before crossing over the arm he had on her. It sent him stumbling forward, right into the hard of her palm. He reeled backwards, apparently concussed before collapsing onto the floor.

It was just then the doors behind them opened as Ra's stepped into the room. At that very instance, Nyssa reached towards one of the swords that hung beside her and launched herself towards her father, the blade slicing towards him with deadly intent. The older man raised the sheath of his weapon in response, parrying her blade to the side, before slamming the wooden grip of his weapon against her throat, sending her staggering backwards.

She couldn't breathe for a moment, her chest struggling to find even the tiniest of gasps. Her eyes flared with anger as she forced herself to regain composure, the weapon still held firmly in her hands.

"How could you!?" She roared as she picked herself up, the blade swung in his direction. But it was a feeble attempt. "I am heir!" The blade shot dangerously close to Ra's, but he did not even bother to return the attack, "not that man!"

He sidestepped her next thrust, his hand latching onto her unguarded shoulder. He squeezed the pressure points, sending her screaming as the blade fell uselessly to the ground. "Enough." He grip tightened further, as her knees gave out under her, crumpling her to the floor.

"It is simple, Nyssa. In a year, Oliver Queen will become the next Ra's al Ghul."

She hissed, but her body refused to comply, she couldn't move.

"Unless…"

Nyssa stopped struggling, her eyes darting towards her father.

"Unless you can survive a year with that man." Anger evaporated, but her gaze turned questioning. "A test," he continued, "for the both of you."

"For a year, you will live in Starling alongside him, you will become his woman. You will obey his every command and rule." He released his grip, "however, if you oppose, if you defy even the slightest of him, then there will be none who stands in the way of Oliver Queen as the next Ra's al Ghul."

"But if you can survive the year without violating our agreement. Then not only will you return as heir, ready for ascension, but I will head to Starling and kill Oliver Queen myself."

"I accept." She spoke without hesitation, the fire returning to her eyes.

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 ** _Present..._**

As the plane descended upon Starling, the uneasy silence remained, none knew of the other's thoughts, or even of Ra's deal to each. He made absolutely sure of it. They both remained in the darkness, each unsure of the other's actual motive.

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 **A/n:** In short, none of them knew what was promised to the other.

To Oliver, Ra's promised to spare Starling, in exchange for taming his daughter. Oliver wouldn't tell her what Ra's required of him, the things Ra's wanted him to do to her.

To Nyssa, Ra's promised to have her ascend, in exchange for an entire year spent with Oliver, under the guise of a test for them both. She wouldn't tell him of Ra's decision to have him killed a year later, as she believed she was really being tested, that Ra's would turn Oliver into the next Demon's head if she were to fail.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n:**

 **highlander348:** _It will be raised in the future. As for now however, tension, tension, tension, who doesn't like tension (:_

 **mjf2468:** _While Nyssa remains the official heir, Ra's does not believe she is ready for accession. While he tells her of his decision to make Oliver the next Ra's, it's merely a deception, a ploy for Nyssa to readily accept his terms._

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 **Chapter: 2**

The evening twilight ebbed with each movement and swirl of her body, each jab of her arm. The last light of the day leeched through the closed windows, sneaking past fluttering shades, caressing the silhouette of the training female. They were at the ground floors of his mansion, in one of the many training rooms he renovated solely for the purpose of furthering his physical condition. He sat in a corner, watching as Nyssa faced an invisible sparring partner, her moves both swift and deadly.

She moved like a dancer, with purpose and with controlled elegance. A layer of sweat coated her, that glistened underneath the night's glow. She turned towards him as he got up from his seat, her head tilted with curiosity at his sudden movement. He approached her, stepping onto the sparring mat, a hand reaching towards his tie, loosening it, tossing it to the side.

A tiny smile crossed her lips, the woman reaching behind her and tying her hair up before moving in his direction. He was not dressed for the occasion, an expensive suit from the looks of it, but she knew better than to underestimate him. They circled the other, studying the other's move, watching, waiting for an opening, a mistake.

She took the first step, her ankle forward, but a feint. She twisted away at the last moment, using her momentum to send her right knee shooting in his direction. He predicted it, from the amount of steps she would take to even the speed of her strike. He grabbed onto her leg, preparing to send her off balance when she dropped her weight, crouching and spinning clockwise, away from his grasp.

As she retreated, he chased after her immediately, but she was ready, her arms up as she parried his blows. He watched as she steady herself, logging each of her steps into his brain. She favored her right foot, kicks over fists. The next attack came by almost immediately, he dodged, but instead of counterattacking, he sprang forward from his lowered frame, his shoulders catching her between her thighs. For a moment, she was lifted into the air, and in the next, he drove her downwards, assisted by gravity as she slammed onto the mat below. She gasped in surprise, the air knocked out of her.

He did not give her a chance to breathe, his movements precise as he rolled to her side, an arm around her ankle, twisting her legs to an unnatural angle as his knee pressed into her spine. She was trapped beneath him, writhing in growing pain. His grip wasn't strong enough to break or dislocate her ankle, but the intent was there.

"Submit." He growled.

"Never." She persisted, her fingers dug into the mat.

He twisted harder, then released. She reached for her ankle immediately cradling it in hand. They looked at the other, he could see the pain in her eyes, yet beneath laid tenacity and determination. In a way, it was an analogy of their situation, her own unwillingness to submit.

He watched as she tried to stand, only for her legs to give out slightly underneath her, causing her to stumble to the side, her hands finding the edge of the boxing ring for balance. Her lips pursed, but she did not speak.

"It's swollen," he said as he moved in front of her, bending down as he gripped onto her foot. He did so without permission, but she wasn't in a position to reject his approach. He looked up at her, feeling her tense at his touch. She sucked in a deep breath, as though holding back the pain when he pressed into the side of her soles. "You should have tapped out earlier."

She looked away, silently answering him, refusing for their eyes to meet. Standing back up, he motioned after her to follow, "come on, I will get you some ice."

She hopped after him.

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Nyssa sighed as she felt a warm blast of liquid drenching her from head to toe. She ran her fingers through her hair, further lathering up the soap before increasing the volume of water, feeling the dirt and the grime washing down her naked flesh.

She pressed her palms to her face, then down her neck, feeling the stream of cascading water envelope her. It's been a week since she had agreed to her father's terms, to move to Starling for a year, to become Oliver Queen's woman. She might have grown up in a different part of the world, their societies immensely different, but she wasn't stupid. To become his woman, to not be able to defy any of his demands, it was obvious what that entails towards.

She might have prepared herself, both physically and mentally for the nights to come, but the man yet kept his distance.

For her ascension, there was nothing she would not endure. But still, she had no idea what Oliver Queen was thinking, what he was planning. Was he bidding his time?

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself dry with a towel, she looked down at her ankle, the ice pack did wonders, reducing the swelling, alleviating the pain. It would be fully healed by tomorrow. She did not know why he was treating her in such a way, but even so, her guard would not be lowered.

Not even for the entire year, if that was what it took.

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/n:** I actually had quite a bit of fun writing this chapter.

 **1234123456785678:** _Yes, she will have scenes with the others, but they won't know the true extent of their relationship. The next few chapters would be revolving around the other few characters._

 **Mellow:** _Not exactly. It revolves more around the concept of power play between two certain headstrong individuals._

 **FireBreeze1:** _I agree with you completely. Ra's should be the ultimate mastermind, with contingency plans for his contingency plans. The show didn't do his brilliance justice._

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 **Chapter: 3**

Nyssa felt a mixture of weaknesses, from being unnecessarily vulnerable to disadvantageously exposed.

A lengthy black dress adorned her lean figure, the fabric wrapped tightly around her bosom, with uncovered shoulders that warmly gleamed, reflecting the restaurant's soft lighting. The dress brushed against her ankles with each step she took, with silts that ran up her thighs, revealing toned muscles underneath. She would have preferred her usual outfit, the cloak that shrouded her from head to toe, perhaps even the winter clothing they wore daily back at Nanda Parbat.

Right now, she was anything but comfortable.

She didn't exactly have a choice. When Oliver made his decision to run for Mayor a week ago, he insisted on having her accompany him on his fundraising events. They spent most of the night walking around the restaurant, greeting and shaking the hands of those she would most likely forget the next day. She hung by his side, almost as though being paraded to those around them. She felt dozens of lingering stares that night, and knowing how the Mayors of Starling had the tendency of being attacked in broad daylight, it made her more than a little uncomfortable. It made her wary, cautious of their intentions.

But as the night went by, she soon realized that it wasn't Oliver, but her who caught their eyes.

"Are you uncomfortable?" He asked shortly after they excused themselves from one of the prominent Starling families. She had wanted to complain, to oppose his choice of clothing, to criticize her inability to properly move in that dress were they to enter a difficult situation. But as she began to grumble, he interrupted her, his statement sending her into a stilled silence.

"You look beautiful."

She caught her own reflection by the mirror to the side, it shocked her, she could barely recognize herself. It wasn't hard to imagine the reason for all of the given stares. She looked away from him, refusing to meet his gaze. She hated the way he looked at her, his eyes, although gentle, felt as though they could see right through her. She felt like a stranger in her own skin, something beautiful, fragile, like even the tiniest of a push could send her breaking into a million pieces. She did not like that feeling one bit, it wasn't her, wasn't tough old Nyssa.

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As they were in the limousine on the way back to his mansion afterwards, it was clear how affected by the heels she was. Oliver knew that Nyssa grew up differently from all of the girls he had ever encountered, while they were playing with their Barbie's and dressing themselves up, she was taught to kill, to be ruthless in her conviction, to never show mercy.

It also meant that she wasn't exactly used to wearing such tall heels.

He could tell from the way she rested her leg that she wanted nothing more than to take the shoes off, to relieve herself of their stress. But she remained quiet, not wanting to appear weak in front of him. Neither was she willing to ask for permission to do so.

Yet it was like he could read her mind. One moment she was staring out at the passing buildings, and in the next, Oliver moved to the seats beside her, her legs gently scooped up onto his lap.

"If you're uncomfortable, you should say so." He said, as a matter-of-factly.

"I'm not," she shot back instantly, "you are mistaken."

"I can see you fidgeting from a mile away," his voice was replaced momentarily by the soft clicking of her heels as he unclasped the shoe.

Having his fair share of ever-changing girlfriends back during his wilder days before the Island, there were a few tricks that stuck to him whenever they complained of leg pains after a long day of wearing heels. He never thought it would come useful again one day.

"Is your ankle still hurting from before?" He asked, his fingers gently maneuvering her foot, guiding it slowly in circles like an athletes' warm up.

She felt herself tensing up almost immediately, not from pain, in fact, his movements brought quite the complete opposite. The tensing came from the contact of his hand, his fingertips digging into her flesh, finding all of the tensed muscles, pressing against them, pushing into them. The unwinding pressure sent waves of uninvited pleasure up her calves. After an entire day in those torturous shoes, nothing felt better than a simple ankle massage.

Putting her first foot down, Oliver moved on to the next, this one with added carefulness. It was the same that swelled up from their sparing session a few days back. Latching onto the arch of her soles, his fingers dug into her strained tendons, repeating the actions from before.

Being too caught up in the sensation, it was a little too late when she noticed of the tiny mewl that slipped between her lips. It was barely above a whisper, but the gratifying whimper was heard clearly between both. She immediately pulled her legs back to herself, clearly embarrassed at the sounds that she made.

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She approached Oliver again later that night, when she realized that she couldn't exactly undress herself without help. Nyssa half contemplated slicing the dress apart with her blade, but she was quite sure it was something that he would frown upon. So she headed for his room, the soles of her feet digging silently into the carpeted floors as she stood outside of his quarters.

She waited for a long time before ultimately conquering the side of her that wanted nothing more than to head off in the other direction. She knocked only once and took a step back. A few seconds passed before Oliver greeted her with nothing more than a towel around his waist. From his still wet hair and hastily dried state, it was quite obvious he just gotten out of the shower.

They stared at each other for a long while, before he asked, almost too casually, "yes?"

"My zipper," she focused onto his face, unwanting to divert her eyes elsewhere, "it's stuck."

She caught something of an amused glint flashing across his eyes before he widened the door, "come in."

She followed him in, noticing the dozens of scars that littered the back of his body. In a way, they reminded her of her own, but hers were not as deep, as prominent. She wondered what could cause those, the effects it would have on a man like him. They stopped by the center of his room, his right hand raised up, his fingers twirling, indicating for her to turn.

Holding her hair up for him to gain access to the zipper, she turned and waited. She could feel his nearing presence, his fingers pulling onto the metallic zip. She could hear the sound of it running down her spine, before it came to a stop halfway through. He tugged onto it for a brief moment, apparently stuck where she was.

After a while, she felt him lean forward for a closer look, his heated breath flushing onto her exposed back, sending her into a slight arch at the sudden sensation. It didn't take him long to remove the fabric trapped underneath the zip, allowing him to slide the entire thing down in a single swoop. Nyssa's arms shot together as the dress loosened around her, catching onto the front before it slid completely down.

With a hastily muttered, "thanks", she left the room.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/n:** Pretty short chapter, to show that she can have fun too!

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 **Chapter: 4**

"When you asked me out, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

But she wasn't complaining, not one bit. The two of them stood at the edge of an abandoned factory overlooking a certain crime infested portion of the slums. They weren't exactly dressed for the occasion, only returning from a business meeting hours before. "Remember," he reminded her once more as he slipped on one of his masks before jumping off the side of the building, "no killing!"

It was the fifth time he told her that tonight, it was getting slightly annoying, but she was willing to put it behind her, the ensuring action was worth more than a little endured irritation. Slipping on the provided mask, she followed suit, swinging down the line he shot into the opposite building. Her dress fluttered in the night's breeze, spreading outwards like a glorious umbrella before she landed right in the middle of a violent Starling gang's drug deal.

"Lady, are you lost?"

The first person that approached her stared with disbelief, a sort of dumbfounded displeasure at her sudden entrance. He held out a switchblade, twirling it between his fingers as he closed the distance between them. Oliver was nowhere was nowhere in sight, but his assistance was the last thing she required.

As the gangster stabbed at her with the knife, she dodged to the left, allowing his hand to swing past her before striking at the back of his elbow. She heard something crack as his arm twisted at an unnatural angle, a loud cry of pain as she used his own momentum to drive his blade back into his shoulders, penetrating flesh before she swept his legs out from underneath him, sending him crashing onto the cemented floors, a writhing mess.

She made sure to miss all of his major artilleries, Oliver told her not to kill, but it did not mean she couldn't enjoy herself badly hurting every single one of them. They just have to still be alive after she was done with them. Moving over to her fallen opponent, who was cowering in fear at her approach, she kneeled down beside him, asking kindly for him to apply pressure near his wounds before she ripped the blade from his flesh.

His screams tore through the entire neighborhood, resonating loud as Nyssa got back up on her feet, the man's blade swinging between her fingertips.

The last two weeks with Oliver, it was a frustrating mess of emotions. She wanted to forget it all tonight, she needed to let everything loose.

Looking towards the remaining few in front of her, she asked, "who's next?"

Two of them ran towards her, trying to beat her in numbers, only for her to confidently face their approach, her dress flowing gracefully with her movements, twirling as she did. Her feet planted firmly in the chest of one, sending him reeling backwards as she used his body as a step, flipping herself up into the air, the bottom of her soles catching the other's chin in her backswing. He fell immediately as Nyssa darted forward to the first, dodging the man's desperate swing, ducking downwards before returning with one of her own.

He was twice her size, but her punch was of equal strength, sending him off his feet and crashing noisily onto the floor along with the rest. The other gangster was smarter, he immediately reached for his weapon, but all he managed was an arm inside of his jacket before the switchblade shot towards him, impaling his arm with a splash of resulting blood, stopping him from drawing his gun. She was beside him even before he managed to register the pain, a backswing that sent him crumpling downwards, unconscious.

She heard the sound of slicing air, turning right as an arrow flew past her. She turned immediately, noticing an arrow piercing into the foot of a final gangster, who dropped his drawn gun in surprise, right before Nyssa's foot struck against the side of his skull, whipping him to the side.

As she caught her breath, her eyes moved towards the fallen weapon, which was no doubt pointing right at her before Oliver released the arrow. She looked towards where it came from and saw him, perched at the edge of another building. She headed back towards him, scaling the building with ease before stopping beside him.

"I could have handled it on my own," she said, unwilling to admit her mistake.

It was not a mistake she would have made a month ago before being placed in such a situation with him, in a way, it was his fault she became unfocused.

"I know," even the warm smile he gave her annoyed her, "I just didn't want to miss out on the action."

They stayed and guarded the drugs until the police arrived, slipping away unnoticed only when they saw the approaching sirens.

Her knees were a little scrapped from the waiting and her dress was more than a little dirty, but she enjoyed herself. She definitely did.

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/n:** No Nyssa today, but it involves Oliver, Lyla and John, along with their daughter, Sara.

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 **Chapter: 5**

It was a cold and rainy Starling night like any other, as waves of darkened umbrellas bobbed lifelessly by, unsurprised and familiarized with the depressing weather.

This particular room however, did not reflect the unwelcoming weather outside. In fact, it was somewhat of the opposite, vibrant and lively.

Oliver sat in the middle of hearty laughter and conversation, across the table from one of his most trusted friends, John Diggle, along with the man's wife, Lyla. It was one of their monthly dinners, where they would catch up over a few glasses of expensive wine and Lyla's exquisite cooking. Their conversations were a varying range, from politics to the weather to even the newly opened restaurant down the street. There was only a single exception, no superhero talk allowed at this table.

The three of them had mostly an undisturbed night to themselves, until little Sara shuffled out from her bedroom slightly after ten, her pink pajamas dragging along her path. Rubbing her eyes with one arm, the other held a fluffy plush toy, a birthday gift from Oliver the year before.

"I couldn't sleep," she muttered as she approached the table, quickly finding herself a spot on her father's lap. All of them knew it wasn't the truth, she probably stayed up late just to eavesdrop on their conversation. Just shy of three, little Sara was growing quickly, way too quickly in Diggle's opinion.

Picking his child up, she squealed playfully as he swung her around before hugging her close to his chest. "That's enough playing, let's get you back to bed, dad's going to read you a bedtime story!"

As they headed back to her room, little Sara's head popped up from behind Diggle's shoulders, waving in Oliver's direction, "goodbye Ollie."

"Goodbye Sara!" He waved back before turning to Lyla, who was smiling at the two loves of her life leaving the room. There was something in her eyes, a sort of adoration, intimacy, a feeling that he could only one day hope to achieve. Was this what happiness felt like?

When she noticed his stare, Lyla turned towards him and asked, "Oliver, is something wrong? You were unusually quiet tonight."

"Not exactly." He thought for a long while, not exactly sure as to how he should present the problem. He had been wanting to talk to someone about his situation with Nyssa, it felt like a suffocating load that he needed to get off his chest.

Being both a wife and a mother, he was sure that Lyla could provide him with an advice or two.

"How do you tame someone that is assertively dominant?" He asked suddenly, "how do you get someone to submit entirely to you?"

She coughed at his questions, almost spilling her own drink. She was definitely surprised, of all the things that he could have asked, this was slight above the section of most absurd. She stuttered for a moment, wondering if they were even thinking of the same thing, that she wasn't mistaking his questions for something else entirely. That Oliver Queen, the man that selflessly placed his vigilantism above having even normal relationships, was broaching on a topic such as this.

"Umm," she stammered before taking another sip of her drink, "just so we're clear, you're talking about… a woman right? Not like a pet… or a medieval king trying to gain the absolute control of his underlings… right?"

"Yes," he replied matter-of-factly, as though the subject was as normal as the weather itself.

Now that she was thinking about it, from his lack of conventional relationships and the tight leather outfits that he wore, perhaps something like this was what drives Oliver's libido. While she was not going to judge, the idea definitely got her curious, very much so.

"Who is it?" She asked suddenly, her eyes piqued with interest, "I'm sure it isn't someone in your inner circle, you wouldn't come to me for advice then." Using the deduction skills she gained working at A.R.G.U.S, she eliminated the most obvious candidates, "must be someone that won't willingly listen, someone you once clashed with"

"That's not what I'm asking for, I'm asking for your advice in-"

She interrupted him, completely ignoring what he was saying, "Now, China white is too old for you…"

Her eyes lit up momentarily, "is it Cupid?" She shook her head seconds later, "no, someone as obsessed with you as she is, she'll probably listen to everything you say without questions. You won't have that problem with her."

"Wait, is it Helena Bertinelli?" Lyla's lips pursed in deep thought, "I can imagine her as someone you might want to…"

She looked towards him, almost as though just noticing him for the first time, "sorry, I got a little carried away." She chuckled softly, "me and John, we kind of had a bet as to who you might first end up with. It's always been a close fight between Laurel or Felicity."

"About what I was asking." He muttered in defeat, more than a little regretful in bringing up the topic with her.

"I don't exactly know," she replied, "I mean, it's different for everyone isn't it? The situation, the circumstances. From the way you're asking me, I would assume that she isn't about to go along with it willingly, so maybe there are certain things you could do to force her hand."

"Is there something she wants, something she needs? You could leverage her. Something or someone she cares about? You could threaten or control that aspect of her life." Oliver could see a little bit of Amanda Weller's ruthlessness in Lyla as she spoke, "perhaps finding something that she likes, get her addicted then take away all of her resources."

Looking at Oliver's reaction, she laughed softly to herself, "I feel like I'm back at A.R.G.U.S all over again. I think I'm someone you should come to if you ever need advice on how to capture a target, or to breach a building. Look at me and John, the amount of times we broke up and got back together, I'm not exactly someone you should come to for advice."

"But you're happy now," Oliver twirled the glass in his hand, watching as the reddened liquid momentarily defied gravity, "you are happy, and that's what matters."

"We've gone through a lot, more than a decade of problems before we could finally move on." She smiled, "relationships, they're not easy at all."

"Though if you're bringing up the topic of submission in the bedroom," she jokingly added in, "you could ask John for a few pointers, he sure knows how to make me happy."

"Oh come on Lyla!" He sighed while making a repulsed face, before retorting with a grin, "I must have taught him well."

Now it's Lyla who stared at him in exaggerated disgust before the two of them burst out in laughter.

When they eventually regained their composure, he looked towards Sara's bedroom before turning back and asking her, "can you… keep this between us?"

When Lyla noticed how serious he looked, she realized things weren't as simple as she thought, "okay."

The two of them refilled John's cup when he eventually returned, their conversation and laughter lasting late till the next morning. When he eventually left, Lyla wished him the best in whatever he was hoping to accomplish.

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/n:** And we're on to chapter 6!

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 **Chapter:** 6

"Why do you feel so uncomfortable around me?" He asked her one day as he sat onto the sofa beside her, "are you afraid of me?"

"No." She diverted her eyes away from his, focusing instead onto the newspaper that laid on the table in front of them. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the same image that was plastered across the article, its headlines in huge text, 'Oliver Queen! Next Mayor of Starling?'

Her reply hung awkwardly between them both, as though there was something else left unsaid.

"But?" He asked, this time refusing to give into the silence.

"Not of you, but what you can do." Her eyes found his, a trail of fragility underneath her usual intensity. "Of that I am unable to decline a single request of yours, no matter how vile, how depraved." It lasted for a mere moment and it was gone, the frailness replaced again with an unbreakable façade.

"That is not the type of man I am," he replied softly.

"It doesn't matter what I feel or must endure," she looked away, her hair falling loosely to the side of her face, shielding her features from him. "I will do whatever you ask of me."

"We are neither friends nor lovers," she said, "just two separate people living accordingly to the terms they have dictated. In order to achieve my destiny, I must endure my path."

They were quiet for a long while before he spoke, "Nyssa, look at me." When she did not reply, he reached towards her, his fingers softly brushing aside the darkened curtains that shielded her, pushing the silken strands behind her ears. His fingers remained on the side of her cheeks, before they slid downwards to the opposite end, finding a firm but gentle grasp, inching her face towards him.

His stare was intense, orbs that were of an alluring green, ardent, yet compassionate. "I am not someone that would force you into something along those lines," he spoke slowly, as though properly choosing each and every word, "under Ra's terms, our relationship is absolute, but it is not something for me to abuse. You have my word."

A response wasn't given, but he could see something changing within her, a gleam in her eyes, her lips separating for a moment as though there was something else she wanted to say. She wanted to believe him, but something held her back.

"I have the same scar," she said suddenly, surprising him with the sudden change in topic. But she wasn't disregarding what he previously said, he knew she accepted it, and they were moving on. Perhaps the first step.

"Here," she indicated to the gash running down the side of his neck before pulling her hair back and showing him hers.

The hand on her cheek trailed downwards, softly glancing across the healed wound. She did not flinch nor reacted unpleasantly at his touch, as he studied the markings across her skin. "How did it happen?"

"A long time ago," her eyelids fluttered shut for a brief moment as her memories emerged, "back at Nanda Parbat… from the hands of my father."

"It was a lesson," she continued, "I was weak, he disciplined me, showed me my weakness. Taught me never to make the same."

She shivered at his touch, a delicate graze that wildly contrasted the violence that created such a mark.

"I…" He paused, she could tell that there was something else he wanted to add in, to say about the scar her father left, but it seemed as though he changed his mind at the last second, unsure of his place to do so. Pointing to his own, he pulled down the front of shirt, allowing her to see how deeply the injury ran. While they both started from the side, his ran down towards his chest, a reddened blemish.

"Feel this," he gripped onto her hand, pressing her fingers against his scar, "can you feel the difference in texture? From the tip and as it goes lower?"

When she nodded in reply, he continued, "it's an overlapping scar, one of top of the other. Both left by the same person. Slade Wilson. The first when we first fought on the island, and the second when he attacked Starling. It was done on purpose, to remind me of who I was before I met him."

Her fingers unconsciously followed the trail, stopping only when she crossed his chest, feeling the slight thump of his underneath organ. "I was lucky," he murmured, "a little bit to the left, and he would have punctured my heart."

"You know," he said when she pulled herself back, "what I said before about being comfortable, it's because we are going to be in the spotlight now. As I am running for Mayor, we have a lot more public appearances, we cannot show up as though we're strangers."

"But your friends, don't they already know of what we are?"

"The world doesn't." He replied, "and as far as my friends are concerned, you are only here because of Damien Darhk. They all know of Ra's history with Darhk, they think you're here under your father's orders to hunt Darhk, that you're only around me because you're using me as bait to draw him out."

"I see."

"I like your hair better this way," he smiled, slightly startling her with the sudden change in topic, indicating to the portion where it was brushed backwards. "Your usual hairstyle hides too much of your features."

"Hairstyles and applying makeup are not exactly requisites of a league's assassin." Oliver spotted the slightest of a smile, she was playing along with him, "though I could kill someone a hundred times over with a single hairpin."

It was a joke, but not exactly. Still, they both laughed.

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He stood by the limousine, tapping impatiently onto his watch. They were heading out for another dinner with his supporters. He don't particularly enjoy being late, the evening Starling traffic wasn't particularly knowing for being forgiving either. As the front entrance to his mansion slowly crept open, his eyes darted towards the exiting female.

Nyssa headed towards him, adorning an elegant dress that ended near the center of her thighs. Her hair was brushed backwards, into a bun of sorts that revealed much of her neck and shoulders, reflecting softly the evening's glow, accentuating their contours.

She smiled as he held the doors open for her, a tiny whiff of perfume as she stepped into the vehicle.

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